


A Forever Thing

by spn_wincest_etc (babybrotherdean)



Series: Prompt Fills [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Dean's a little tipsy and spills the beans about liking Sam, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Sam, but there IS a little bit of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 23:15:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3358925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybrotherdean/pseuds/spn_wincest_etc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You gotta be sure." Sam’s whispering, too, sounds almost desperate. "You gotta tell me you’re <i>sure</i> Dean, you <i>know.</i> I don’t-” He swallows hard. “I’m not doin’ this if you’re gonna run away in the morning.”</p><p>The words have Dean sobering a little, and he makes his eyes focus properly. Sam looks scared, almost, but there’s something else there that, after a long moment of silence, Dean recognizes as hope.</p><p>Instead of responding, Dean leans forward the extra couple inches and presses their lips together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Forever Thing

**Author's Note:**

> _Request~~! Sam comes home to the bunker one night, to find Dean passed out in nothing but underwear. He wales Dean up, and he's clearly had something to drink (sonofabitch Dean o^o) and begins quickly spilling his guts about his feelings for him. Sam doesn't really know what to say.... (Write from there please, and if you could make Dean a bottom, I'd love you even more)_  
> 
> This one's from [wincest-is-ours-to-ship](wincest-is-ours-to-ship.tumblr.com). Thanks for the prompt! :D

Dean squints a little bit as he looks at his brother. There’s a bit of a haze, a fog over his mind that he knows is probably the alcohol, and it makes it hard to figure out why Sam seems to be floundering for words.

"You gonna say somethin’?" he asks, raises an eyebrow expectantly. "M’spilling my heart out over here." Maybe it’d been in too many words, and maybe some of them had slurred together… but even so, he’s pretty sure he got the message across.

Sam shakes his head quickly, looks conflicted. “You- you’re drunk,” he says, and it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of the fact. “You’re just sayin’ things.”

Dean makes a frustrated sound, sits up and glares at Sam. “Not just sayin’ anything,” he insists, manages to haul himself to his feet. They’re liberal about getting in each other’s space at the best of times, and now Dean’s not about to give Sam more than he strictly needs to breathe. Sam steps back, and Dean just moves with him, backs him right into the closed door.

"It’s fucked up," he whispers, looking at Sam intently. He can’t quite stop himself, reaches up to brush his fingers over his brother’s cheek. Sam shivers. "But I want this. Wanted this for… forever."

Before he can blink, Sam’s moving, grabs his arms and spins Dean around, presses him back into the wall. He’s breathing hard, and his eyes flicker downward, and Dean suddenly remembers his state of dress. Or lack thereof. He figures the flush to his cheeks will hide it if he reddens at all.

"You gotta be sure." Sam’s whispering, too, sounds almost desperate. "You gotta tell me you’re _sure_ Dean, you _know._ I don’t-” He swallows hard. “I’m not doin’ this if you’re gonna run away in the morning.”

The words have Dean sobering a little, and he makes his eyes focus properly. Sam looks scared, almost, but there’s something else there that, after a long moment of silence, Dean recognizes as hope.

Instead of responding, Dean leans forward the extra couple inches and presses their lips together. 

Sam makes a wounded sound, but then he’s kissing back, pressing Dean into the wall with the full length of his body. Dean can feel how tense he is, so he brings his hands up, threads his fingers into Sam’s hair to hold him close. 

It’s oddly sweet, slow and deep and everything Dean thinks their first kiss deserves to be, anyways. Sam breaks away several long seconds after, rests his forehead against Dean’s and gasps for breath.

"Told you so," Dean mumbles, smiles to himself. "M’not just saying shit."

Sam laughs, sounds a little breathless. “But you’re definitely drunk,” he murmurs like he needs to affirm that he was right about something. 

Dean shrugs, doesn’t try to deny it. “So- this. You like this?” 

"Yeah." Sam’s pulling away, and Dean wants to protest, but then his brother’s taking his hand, tugging him along on the way to the bed, so he stays quiet. "Didn’t think you would."

He moves to gently push Dean down on the bed, crawls up after him. Dean’s reminded, once again, that’s he’s almost naked and his brother’s still got his damn shoes on, but Sam’s speaking again before he can protest.

"Always thought you’d hate me. If I said something." Sam smiles, and Dean doesn’t like the look in his eyes, so he leans up and kisses him again, chastely. Sam’s smile turns a little more genuine. "But- I guess not?"

Dean shakes his head. “Never. I wouldn’t. S’against the rules.” His own little code of conduct that he tries to stick to. _We don’t kill people. No Top 40 in the car. Sam is always the priority._

Sam looks sad, for a second, but he shakes it off. “Yeah, well. I don’t hate you, either. Never have.” 

Dean thinks there’s probably some times when he’s deserved Sam hating him- worse- but he doesn’t bring any of it up. It’s not the time, and he doesn’t want to upset his brother. “Good.” He smiles a bit, shifts underneath Sam. “We don’t hate each other. So what’re we gonna do about it?”

Sam looks embarrassed, then determined. “Will you- can I?” He glances down at Dean’s chest, lower, licks his lips. When he glances up again, he looks hungry, and Dean shivers. “Please.”

Dean doesn’t ever pause to consider his answer, nods. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Whatever you want, Sammy.” Everything he has is his brother’s to take, and he’s not shy about offering it up. Not now that he knows it’s going to be accepted.

Sam nods tightly, takes a shaky breath before sitting up. He makes quick work of his shirt, drops it to the side before going for the zipper of his jeans. 

Dean doesn’t make any attempt to disguise his blatant staring, bite his lip as his eyes rove over Sam’s skin. It’s far from the first time he’s seen his brother like this- they’ve lived in each other’s pockets all their lives; it’s become a non-issue- but this is different, charged with tension, and he finds himself clutching at the bed sheets as Sam gets undressed.

Sam glances up once he’s got the zipper undone. “Like what you see?” he teases, seems more confident now. Dean doesn’t know what kind of a person his brother is behind closed doors in this context, so it’s definitely interesting to see now.

"Maybe. You been workin’ out, kid?" Dean’s teasing right back, and Sam laughs, shrugs a little.

"You know how it is. Digging up graves, chasing monsters. Good for keeping fit."

Then he drops his jeans and Dean’s eyes go wide, because _holy shit._

"Guess it’s true what they say about guys with big feet," he murmurs, slowly drags his eyes away from the prominent bulge in Sam’s briefs. 

Sam grins, doesn’t look embarrassed in the least anymore. “Guess so.” He hooks his thumbs in the elastic waistband, gives Dean a meaningful look. “You, too.”

Dean nods, shifts to lift his hips a little until he can slowly work his boxer-briefs down off his hips. His cock is standing full at attention, but all his attention is on Sam while his brother mirrors his movements. 

"Christ, Sammy," he murmurs, can’t quite keep the awe out of his voice as Sam steps in close again. Because Sam’s big, _huge_ , even, and maybe it’s a tiny bit intimidating. “Not sure that’s gonna fit anywhere, kiddo.”

Sam laughs, tugs Dean’s underwear the rest of the way down and tosses them aside. “It’ll fit.” He pauses, then. “I mean, if that’s okay. With you.”

Dean’s nodding before he even finishes. “Yeah. Please.” He’s wanted Sam for a long time, now, and seeing him like this… “Want you.”

"Alright." Sam smiles, ducks down and kisses Dean hard. He’s pulling away again before Dean really gets a chance to reciprocate, though, seems to hesitate a moment. "You got any lube? Or like- anything that we could use?"

Dean actually stops to think about that properly, furrows his brow. He knows enough to know that neither of them are going to enjoy this if Sam goes in dry, and he lights up when he remembers something. “My bag. End pocket.” He gestures, Sam nods, leans off the side of the bed to rifle through it.

He finds the bottle easily enough, glances at Dean and raises an eyebrow. “Baby oil? You got something to tell me?”

"Shut up." Dean rolls his eyes. "S’for the car. Don’t want the leather to crack."

Sam looks at him like he’s maybe wondering if that should be strange, but shrugs it off and nudges Dean’s legs apart, settles down between them.

"You ever done this before?" Sam asks, glances up curiously. "Like- this?"

"You mean with a guy?" Dean asks. "Because no. Not this."

Sam raises an eyebrow as he slicks up his fingers. “So… girls?”

Dean smiles, almost sheepish. “Rhonda Hurley,” he says simply, because it’s more than enough explanation for him.

"You’re telling me that story later." Sam sounds almost amused, but turns serious again a moment later. "You gotta tell me if I’m goin’ too fast, okay? Or if it hurts. I’ll stop."

"I know." Dean doesn’t doubt it for a second. "Have _you_ done this before?”

Sam laughs, glances up to meet Dean’s eyes. “You always told me that college was the time to experiment, right?”

He doesn’t say anything else, moves Dean’s legs a little more. Dean decides to be an active participant here, spreads his legs for his brother and tilts his hips up. “Guess so. I’m expecting a good performance on your part, then.”

Sam rolls his eyes, and then he’s reaching forward and down. Dean can’t help a gasp when he feels Sam’s fingertip brush over his hole, slick with oil. “You’ve got to try to relax, okay? We’re gonna go slow, but it’ll be easier if you just… try to relax.”

Dean nods, wets his lips as he gets more comfortable. The feeling isn’t entirely foreign, and it’s Sam, so it doesn’t take long for him to calm down. He can see Sam smiling to himself as he rubs at the rim gently, and he thinks he might hear something to the effect of “that’s it, baby,” but it’s too quiet to be sure he hadn’t imagined it.

There’s no warning before Sam slips his finger in, and Dean’s breath hitches. It doesn’t hurt, it’s just odd, and when he looks up at Sam, his brother’s watching him intently. 

"Okay?" Sam checks, keeps his finger still once it’s buried as deep as it can go. "No pain?"

"No pain," Dean confirms, nods once. "I’m good. Really."

Sam looks relieved, and Dean has to smile a little bit. But then Sam’s moving his finger, pulls out and moves back in carefully, the movement smoothed by the oil. “Good.” 

He gets a concentrated look on his face, then, and then he crooks his finger just write and Dean swears, jerks in place.

"Fuck," he breathes, rocks his hips down hard. "Do that again."

Sam laughs, but complies, presses his finger into the spot. Dean groans, and his cock jerks. He barely notices as Sam works a second finger inside, too distracted by the zings of pleasure going up his spine every time Sam brushes against his prostate.

"Good, right?" Sam looks incredible pleased with himself, then ducks down to press a few kisses to Dean’s chest, his collarbone. "I’ve got some practice."

He starts scissoring his fingers apart, and two blurs into three. Dean’s a bit of a mess by the end of it, cock hard and leaking precome. He’s got his legs up to his chest now, hugging them close to give Sam all the access he needs.

"Ready?" Sam says, then, and Dean nods so fast he’s worried about giving himself whiplash. "Right, yeah. Alright. How d’you want to do this?"

Dean doesn’t hesitate. “Like this. Wanna see you. C’mon, hurry.”

Sam smiles a bit, pulls his fingers out slowly. “Yeah, you got it.” There’s another moment of fumbling with the bottle of oil- Sam’s hands must be slippery, but Dean still laughs as he almost drops it- and then Sam’s spreading the stuff over his cock, shivering with it. 

Soon enough, he positions himself over Dean, and Dean feels the head of his cock- bigger than his fingers, blunt-tipped, hard and silky soft- bumping against his entrance, and he licks his lips, hitches his legs up around his brother’s waist.

"Do it," he murmurs, and Sam does.

It’s slow going at first, Sam easing his way in, and Dean does his best to stay relaxed. There’s a distant sort of stretching sensation, more unfamiliar than uncomfortable after the prep, and he doesn’t realize that Sam’s bottomed out until he speaks.

"You okay? Not too much?" he asks, brings his clean hand up to stroke Dean’s cheek.

Dean smiles at him, wiggles a little experimentally. It gets a gasp from both of them. “S’good. But fuck, you’re big.”

Sam laughs, drops down a little to press his forehead against Dean’s. “Heard that one before, try again.”

"You’ve… got a monster dick?" Dean tries, cheeky grin in place.

Sam snickers, rolls his hips sharply. Dean moans, tightens his legs around his brother. “Shut up.”

That’s the end of their banter for the moment, and Sam starts moving in earnest, starts up an easy back-and-forth with his hips. Dean catches on quickly enough, moves to meet each thrust, grunts with the impacts.

It doesn’t take long for Sam to find a slightly better angle, tilts Dean’s hips up and grins when Dean cries out on the next thrust, because “fuck, Sammy, right there.” He doesn’t think he’s going to last much longer at this rate, and thinks he might’ve been embarrassed with anyone else. This is different, though. This is Sam.

"You gettin’ close?" Sam murmurs, and his voice is low and rough and Dean’s dick seems to like that a lot. Sam notices apparently, huffs out a laugh. "Yeah. Me, too. You think you could come just like this? Bet I wouldn’t even have to touch you."

Dean honest-to-god _whimpers_ , because as much as he’s fantasized, he’d have never guessed that Sam was the type for dirty talk. 

When Sam laughs this time, it’s more of a chuckle, low and dark. “Thought so.”

He speeds up, then, finds Dean’s hands and links their fingers together. Dean holds on tight and just focuses on the way they’re moving together, the wet slap of skin on skin as Sam starts pounding into him, the way he can feel Sam’s breath, coming hard and fast where his brother’s pressing his face into Dean’s shoulder.

Sam finishes first, bites down on Dean’s shoulder, stifles a groan with it. Dean isn’t sure what triggers his own orgasm, the feeling of Sam spilling inside him or the sharp pain of Sam’s teeth or maybe just watching his brother come apart, but he’s not far behind, clenches hard around Sam and holds on tight as he spills between then, manages to whisper something like “fuck, _Sam_ ," as they ride it out together.

When they’re both done, Sam just rests there for a moment, hovering over Dean on slightly shaky hands and knees before he pulls out, gently extracts himself from Dean’s hold before flopping down beside him.

"So…" Dean speaks after a moment of silence while they both catch their breath. "That was awesome."

Sam laughs, rolls his eyes and elbows Dean lightly. “What, were you doubting me?”

"Hey, it’s not like I’ve seen you in action before." Dean grins, turns his head to look at Sam properly. "Gotta say, though, I’m impressed."

Sam actually blushes a bit, and Dean’s glad to see that his brother’s still the same dork as usual, even if he’s a bit of a sex god. “Shut up.” He pauses, then, looks hesitant. “This is… gonna keep going, right? It’s not a one-time thing?”

Dean lets himself turn serious, leans in and gives his brother a soft, lingering kiss. “Not a one-time thing,” he murmurs. “I mean, I’d prefer if it was a forever thing, personally.”

Sam smiles at the, then wraps his arms around Dean and hauls him in close. “A forever thing,” he murmurs, closes his eyes. “I think I like the sound of that.”

Dean nods once, tucks himself in close and lets his eyes slip shut. “A forever thing it is,” he whispers. “Thanks, Sammy.”

"Thank _you_ ,” Sam replies, and if he hadn’t sounded so sleepy it might’ve been teasing.

"Welcome," is the last thing Dean manages to mumble before he lets himself drift off.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! And if you feel like requesting a ficlet, hit me up at allywriteswords.tumblr.com!


End file.
